InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 6: Shameless ❯ The Million Dollar Girl ( Chapter 3 )

~~Chapter 3~~

~The Million Dollar Girl~

 

 

“God, Jilli . . . why do you do this to yourself?”

 

Jillian craned her neck to peer over her shoulder at Gavin. He was scowling at the raw skin on her back where the diamond studded bikini had rubbed against her all day. Wincing as he gently applied the cold body cream, she sighed. “It's a paycheck,” she told him in a completely pragmatic tone.

 

“A paycheck,” he repeated darkly. “You could do anything, you know. You don't have to model.”

 

“We've been over this, Gavvie,” she said, rolling her eyes despite the playful little grin that surfaced on her lips. “I'm not smart like you or Bassie . . . or Evan, for that matter, even if he does try to hide it.”

 

“Yeah? You don't have to make it sound as though you're stupid, either,” he pointed out.

 

“I'm not stupid,” she agreed. “I just know what I can and cannot do.”

 

“What about photography? You always liked doing that . . .”

 

Wrinkling her nose, Jillian shrugged and heaved a sigh as she closed her eyes, lulled by Gavin's tender administrations. “I like that,” she agreed. “I'd have to go back to school to do it, though.”

 

“Not necessarily,” he argued. “I mean, you could, but you don't have to.”

 

Idly touching the gold butterfly pendant around her neck, Jillian smiled. She woke up to find the necklace dangling in front of her face. The chain had broken, and Gavin had left her long enough to buy a new thicker chain while she was doing the diamond bikini shoot. “I can't believe you found it,” she said, pulling the pendant away from her throat and holding it up so that he'd know what she was talking about.

 

“I was surprised, myself,” he admitted. “Can't believe you still have that. It was just a cheap little necklace.”

 

“It was not!” she argued. “Of course I still have it! I have everything you've ever given me, Gavvie. Don't be silly!”

 

His hands stilled for a moment before resuming the soothing motion. “You do?”

 

She nodded, eyes drifting closed once more. “Yes, I do.”

 

“There. Does your back feel better?” he asked, wiping his hands on a hand towel.

 

Jillian tugged her robe onto her shoulders and cinched the belt tight. “Yes, lots, thanks,” she assured him. He sat back, frowning at his hands, and she giggled softly, curling her legs to the side on the sofa and snuggling against his shoulder. “It's not that bad, Gavvie . . . just body cream.”

 

He made a face and tossed the towel onto the coffee table before picking up his laptop and checking his email. “Girly stuff,” he complained though his tone lacked any real disgust.

 

Jillian nodded. “Mm . . . you can check mine while you're at it.”

 

“Your email, you mean? Which one?”

 

“The public one,” she told him. “I can't remember my log-in for that one.”

 

Gavin shook his head, obviously not surprised. Jillian was good at forgetting things, like passwords. Grimacing as her inbox loaded on the computer screen, Gavin wasn't surprised to see that she'd managed to amass over five hundred emails since the last time she'd checked them, and that wasn't counting the ones in the spam folder, either. “How long's it been since you checked this?” he asked.

 

“I don't know . . . a week or two?”

 

That didn't surprise him, either, if the smile on his face meant anything. Gavin heaved a sigh and slumped lower. “This'll take awhile. Do you read all of these?”

 

“I read as many as I can,” she said. “Not all of them . . .”

 

“You need a secretary,” he grumbled, clicking on the oldest email on the list.

 

“Oh? Like Jillian Zelig, Incorporated? No, thanks. I'll pass. Wake me up when you're ready to go to bed.”

 

Gavin uttered a grunt in response as he scanned through the email.

 

:::

 

`Dear Ms. Zelig,

 

`I'm your biggest fan . . .'

 

:::

 

He moved on to the next one. They all seemed basically the same. While the wording changed, they all proclaimed to be the biggest fans; or worse: her future husbands. He grimaced. He wasn't surprised by people asking for her autograph whenever she was recognized, and though that was a constant enough occurrence, he'd never cease to be appalled at the sheer numbers of obsessed fans she tended to have.

 

When did all that happen? When had she stopped being the girl he knew—the one who loved to be outdoors; who found and nursed injured animals back to health? When had she become an icon?

 

A scanned attachment; an image of Jillian in a little black cocktail dress with her arm around what looked to be a college kid . . . the boy wanted to thank her for taking a moment for the picture. Gavin let out a deep breath and clicked on the next email.

 

:::

 

`My darling,

 

`I've been working on the little nest I've been building for you, my dove. Why haven't you answered my emails? I don't like playing games, but I will if you force me to. Answer me, Jillian. We belong together. It's been prophesized . . .'

 

:::

 

He scowled at the email and closed it out, clicking on the next one as he tried to brush aside the irrational irritation brought on by the words. He didn't realize he was digging his claws into the arm of the sofa . . . “Hey, Jilli?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“This guy—Mickey B . . . Have you ever responded to his emails?”

 

“Hmm? No . . . I don't think so . . .”

 

Gavin stifled a relieved sigh. “Good. You know, maybe you shouldn't mess with this email account anymore.”

 

“Why not?”

 

He forced a smile, smoothing her hair as she leaned back to gaze up at him. “You get a lot of fan mail. It'd take you forever to get caught up.”

 

“If you say so, Gavvie. I trust you.”

 

“I know. Go to sleep, Jilli. I'll wake you up in a little while.”

 

“'Kay,” she agreed with a wide yawn as she snuggled back down again. Gavin watched her for a few minutes, allowing the sight of her face to calm him before turning back to the email account again.

 

Twenty emails later, he found the next one. Same guy: Mickey B, same line of garbage . . . Gavin closed it and opened the next one.

 

Jillian sighed in her sleep, cuddling closer to him. Lifting his arm and draping it over her shoulder, he noted absently that he rather liked the warmth of her beside him.

 

Truthfully, he had to admit that he was entirely too used to having her with him. After summers spent with her practically glued to him, it had been disconcerting, to say the least, to return to Montana. He was an only child, and Jillian was like a little sister to him—or so he'd told himself often enough over the years. She might have said time and again that they were destined to be mates, but Gavin had to wonder just how much of that was habit. Like a comfortable old t-shirt, she'd just grown accustomed to being with him. The truth of it was that they were simply too different to stand a chance. It complimented their friendship well, but Gavin wasn't fool enough to even try to believe that it would ultimately be a mistake if they were more than friends. Jillian was used to red carpets and champagne, high class parties and all the glitz that surrounded her. Gavin was too simple for that, wasn't he? Ranching and the outdoors; finances and Wall Street . . . those were the things he knew.

 

To be blunt, Gavin just wasn't very good with people. He could handle himself on a business level, sure, but when it came to social situations, he was a miserable failure. Entirely too self-conscious, he wasn't one to attend parties, and he certainly never wanted to be in the limelight. Truth be known, he didn't even want to be a stock broker, at all. No, he'd chosen his profession because he needed the money to restore the ranch he'd inherited from his grandfather.

 

`And you get to be near Jillian, too.'

 

Shifting uncomfortably at that reminder, Gavin shot the sleeping girl a quick glance. She looked so sweet, didn't she? Sooty lashes fanning out over her high cheekbones, her dusty rose lips slightly parted . . . a hint of pink tinged her cheeks . . . Gavin smiled despite himself, pulling a thin blanket off the back of the sofa where he'd left them when housekeeping had brought it up earlier and carefully spread it over her. She snuggled down into the warmth.

 

`Near Jillian . . .'

 

That was it, wasn't it? That was the real reason he'd moved to New York City. After working for a couple years for a firm in Detroit, he'd accepted another job offer on Wall Street, telling himself that it'd be more money when he knew deep down that the real reason he wanted to go wasn't because of the money. No, it was because he knew that's where Jillian was, and damn him for wanting to be close to her . . .

 

The long and short of it, he supposed, was that he just didn't know how not to be with her. For nearly twenty years, she'd been a constant, more or less, and in that length of time, he'd come to depend on her smile; on her cheerfulness; on her gentle encouragement.

 

Damn him for that, too.

 

Heaving a sigh, he turned his attention back to the computer. Scowl darkening as he noticed one glaring thing: the same email address kept popping up, time and again: Mickey B, sometimes as often as three or four emails in a day.

 

Clicking on the next one, Gavin rested his elbow on the arm of the sofa, propping his chin on his fist.

 

:::

 

`Where have you been, Jillian? I drove past your condo today, but all the lights were off . . .'

 

:::

 

Gavin's scowl darkened. `Drove by her condo? He knows where she lives . . .?'

 

Telling himself that knowing where she lived really wasn't that big a deal since lots of people knew where celebrities had homes in the city, and because she rarely spent any time there, Gavin still couldn't quite brush aside the unsettling feeling that something wasn't right.

 

:::

 

`Who is he? Are you cheating on me? I'd really hate to think you are because you know that would really make me angry, so who is he, and why have you been staying over at his apartment? Don't you ignore me, Jillian. It isn't very nice, you know . . .'

 

:::

 

Gavin shook his head. The `he' that Mickey was referring to had to be him, didn't it? She stayed over at his apartment more often than she went home. `Damn it . . . who is this guy?'

 

Mickey's next few emails were basically the same: angry venting because she hadn't bothered to respond to him, dire warnings of what would come to pass if she continued to ignore him but no real, concrete threats. As much as Gavin didn't like the tone of the emails, there wasn't much he could do unless Mickey made a real threat against Jillian . . .

 

An email sent three days ago, though, froze the blood in his veins. A picture attachment showed the interior of Jillian's condo, and while the images were obviously taken from the outside looking through the windows, they were upper story windows. Jillian wasn't in any of them, but he could tell from the tarps covering most of her furniture that they were recent pictures. She was having the condo renovated, which was a small part of the reason she wasn't staying in her home. The next email had a picture, too, and this one . . . Gavin's aqua eyes narrowed. It was the inside of her bathroom—a room with frosted windows . . . a picture the man couldn't have gotten from outside . . .

 

:::

 

`As you can see, my darling, I know where you live. I've even been inside. Are you missing a few pairs of your pretty little panties?'

 

:::

 

A vicious growl erupted in Gavin's throat, and he shot Jillian a worried glance. Still sound asleep, she was completely oblivious to the turmoil that was trying to nudge Gavin's powers of rational thought aside. Carefully scooping her up, he carried her into the bedroom and tucked her in before striding back into the living room and grabbing his cell phone off the table by the door.

 

“Gavin?”

 

Dropping back onto the sofa, Gavin clicked the next email from Mickey B. `More pictures,' he thought with a grimace as he opened the first one. “Hey, Cain. I hope I'm not interrupting anything, but I wanted to talk to you.”

 

“Is Jillian all right?”

 

The concern evident in the tai-youkai's voice was immediate. Jillian, for all intents and purposes, was his baby, never mind she was only three months younger than her brother, Evan. “That dirty little bastard,” Gavin mumbled, glowering at the close up of Jillian's rumbled bed-sheets.

 

“Come again?” Cain questioned.

 

Gavin sighed. “Jillian's been getting emails from this guy. He says his name is Mickey B. The older ones were just sort of creepy, but the newer ones . . .” Trailing off with a sigh, Gavin buried his free hand in his reddish brown bangs and scratched his head. “You at your computer, by any chance?”

 

“I will be.”

 

Gavin caught the cell phone between his ear and shoulder, flagging all the emails from the guy and forwarding them to Cain. “There are a few more recent ones I haven't gotten to look at yet.”

 

He heard the clicks of Cain's claws on the computer keyboard as the tai-youkai opened his email. “What the . . .? The hell . . .?”

 

The pictures kept getting worse. Snapshots of Jillian on the street with her hair caught up under a baseball cap . . . of Jillian and Evan talking outside Madison Cartham's hair salon . . . of Jillian and Gavin walking back to his apartment after picking up some groceries . . .

 

Seven emails later, Gavin groaned. “Damn it,” he mumbled. “Cain . . .”

 

“Hmm?”

 

He grimaced, staring at the newest picture he'd opened. “It's . . . your mansion.”

 

Several seconds ticked by before Cain answered. “Which one?”

 

“June 10 . . . 3:12 p.m.”

 

Cain scanned through the mass of emails and clicked on the one Gavin was talking about. “Son of a . . . who is this guy?”

 

“I don't know.”

 

“Hold on.”

 

“Okay.”

 

He heard the phone click while Cain put him on hold. A minute later, he was back as another voice joined in the conversation. “What's going on?” Bas Zelig asked.

 

“I forwarded the emails to Bas,” Cain explained.

 

“Right,” Gavin agreed. “I don't know, exactly.”

 

“Looks like the bastard's got Jillian's condo breached,” Bas grumbled with a heavy sigh. “Damn it all, he got your apartment, too, Gavin?”

 

“Yeah,” Gavin admitted, opening the most recent email. This one was longer, though, and seemed to be nothing but a dossier of Jillian's life—a frighteningly accurate one, at that. Mentioning her family in Japan . . . her entire school career, including names and addresses of her various teachers . . . the man even knew that Jillian was adopted—a fact that the family didn't broadcast though Jillian, herself, didn't think it was a big deal. The picture, however, was enough to unleash a vicious growl; a sound that Gavin rarely made. “Bastard,” he muttered, rubbing his face with a slightly trembling hand.

 

“What's that?” Bas asked.

 

“The . . . the most recent email,” Gavin grumbled.

 

“God,” Cain growled. “So he knows about your place, too.”

 

Gavin nodded slowly, forgetting for a moment that the other men couldn't see his agreement. “Apparently so.” Scowling at the image of Jillian and himself sleeping in his bed, he balled his hand into a fist so tight that his claws dug into his palm. The picture was taken from the outside through the window of his twenty-fourth floor apartment. His bedroom had a fire escape, though, and Gavin figured that was how the miscreant had gotten access to it.

 

“So he's got Jillian's condo, your apartment, and my home under surveillance,” Cain mused. “What about Evan's?”

 

Gavin shook his head, opening Jillian's email settings so that he could reroute her emails to a newly created account for filtering. “I didn't see anything about him, but it's a safe bet that if he doesn't know about Evan yet, he will soon enough.”

 

“That's what I figured, too,” Bas assented. “Dad, I don't think she should come back here.”

 

Cain sighed. “Don't jump the gun. How much longer is Jillian's shoot supposed to last?”

 

“A few more days if they keep to schedule.”

 

“Okay, well, see what you can find out, Bas—you and Gunnar. I'd like to know who we're dealing with before we panic too much. Gavin, don't let Jillian see those emails. I don't want her to worry.”

 

“Understood. I've already forwarded all her emails to a dummy account I just set up. The clean ones can be sent to her account after I filter them first.”

 

“Good,” Cain said with a heavy sigh.

 

“I'll get a hold of Gunnar and get started on this right away,” Bas assured them. “Send me the new account information, Gavin. Bye.”

 

The third line went dead, and Gavin let out a deep breath as he composed an email with the information that Bas requested. “Keep me posted, Gavin. I don't like this . . .”

 

“I don't, either,” he allowed. “Sorry for disturbing you.”

 

“Disturbing me?” Cain echoed darkly. “If it's about my daughter's safety, then it isn't a disturbance.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Gavin answered. “Good night.”

 

He clicked off his phone and sighed as he logged off the computer and snapped the lid closed. He had a bad feeling about this Mickey B. character. He just wished he knew who he was and how to stop him . . .

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

Blending into the dusky shadows in the parking garage, he skulked, pausing in his movements to tug off the black Gila-monster-youkai-skin glove, he stretch out his hand, smiling grimly as a bolt of electricity shot out of his fingertips. He pulled the glove back on as he watched the arc of energy hit the nearest security camera mounted high on a pillar support. It crackled and buzzed before shorting out entirely. The current passed along the wires overhead, zapping each of the cameras, one by one. The electricity flickered but didn't cut off. It would look like a simple short circuit, which was exactly what he wanted. With a satisfied chuckle, he strode through the empty garage, stopping long enough to scan the silent vehicles. `A white Mercury Leviene . . .'

 

There were two white Mercury Levienes in the garage. Narrowing his eyes, he squinted to make out the license plates.

 

He found it. Sparing a moment to scope the garage once more, he skirted around the perimeter of the garage until he reached the car in question. Yanking off the glove once more, he placed his palm on the hood of the car, sending an electrical impulse through the vehicle's frame. A soft beep announced the deactivation of the car's security system. Kneeling down before the car, he leaned to the side to peer around the garage once more before lying down on his back to scoot under the car.

 

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Reaching up, he fingered the long metal tube that descended from the engine assembly above. That was the one he was after . . .

 

Puncturing the line with a razor-sharp claw, he twisted his hand back and forth to widen the hole. `That should do it,' he decided. Scooting to the side, he watched, satisfied when the first droplet of the slow drip hit the concrete.

 

Crawling out from under the vehicle, he pushed himself to his knees, tugging the glove onto his hand once more. Slowly rising to his feet, he perused the garage. `Piece of cake,' he gloated with an arrogant smirk. `What a waste of my skills . . .'

 

Tossing his head with a disingenuous snort, he stepped back into the shadows and disappeared in the darkness.

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

Jillian sighed and cuddled closer to the warmth of Gavin's body as the layers of sleep thinned and ebbed away. She heard the ominous rumble of thunder outside the window. Dulled by the heavy sheet glass windows, she wondered if humans could hear it. She could, of course. Youkai hearing was so much keener than that of mortals, after all. A dizzying thrill rushed up her spine; a delicious tremor that bespoke a wanton urge. She doubted the photo shoot could proceed as planned, given the weather. `Maybe I can talk Gavvie into going for a nice, long drive . . . or a walk in the rain . . .'

 

She loved the rain. In fact, she loved water in any form. Rain, snow . . . all of it. The rain was comforting to her. Gavin had teased her over the years since she was a water-youkai. Still, she couldn't quite explain the feeling that she got every time she felt the moisture on her skin, in her hair . . . she never felt as alive as she did at those times. Gavin knew and understood this about her. Then again, Gavin had always understood things about her. Of course, the chances of getting the much-too serious dog-youkai to swim with her were slim to none. He used to when they were younger. She wasn't sure why he refused now.

 

`Maybe it has something to do with the idea that you like to swim naked,' her youkai chided gently.

 

Jillian smiled and nuzzled closer to Gavin's side. `Maybe. It's nothing he hasn't seen before, though.'

 

`You're an accident waiting to happen, Jillian Zelig, and Gavin knows it, too. Good thing he's around to save you from yourself. What'll you do if he ever leaves you?'

 

`He won't leave me,' she argued. `Gavvie's my mate. He just has to admit it to himself; that's all.'

 

`And you've been trying to get him to admit that for nearly twenty years, and he hasn't budged. Do you really think you can do it now?'

 

Choosing to ignore that, she sighed happily and draped her leg over his. He tightened his arms around her but didn't stir. Her smile widened as she savored the feel—the absolute comfort of Gavin's presence. She loved early mornings. Able to lie around and enjoy the security he offered, she couldn't help the sigh of complete happiness that escaped her.

 

She lay still for a few minutes more before wiggling enough to lean up on her elbow. Gazing down at his face, she bit her lip. He'd changed so much over the years, hadn't he? She could still recall the scrawny little boy he had been the first time she'd seen him. Though he was nearly five years their senior, he had been just a few inches taller than her brother, Evan. Over time, he had grown, sure, but he hadn't grown much. By the time Jillian was nine, she was well taller than Gavin was at fourteen. While she loved to kiss the top of his head, he'd always scowled at her with a blush staining his pale cheeks before shoving her away and stomping off to sulk. She'd thought it was the cutest thing, and the pictures from those years said it all. In the pages of Jillian's photo albums, she cherished the pictures of Gavin and herself the most. One of her favorites—Gavin sitting on her lap—was framed and sat on the nightstand in her condo back in New York City.

 

It stayed that way until the last fateful summer. Jillian turned twelve. Gavin was seventeen. It was the last summer he came to Maine for training. While he'd never said as much, Jillian had known that Gavin believed that his father wanted him to become a youkai hunter, too, but . . . but the young man she knew so well wasn't a hunter. Too kind, too gentle, Gavin wasn't the kind of person who could end a life, no matter how deserving. It was one of the many things that she adored about him.

 

She hadn't been ready for the change. Looking back now, it had been a good thing, she supposed. No matter how much she missed him during that time, Jillian realized that she'd been forced to rely on herself in his forced absence. She'd never had to do that before; not really. Gavin had a way of making everything better. She lived for the precious months of summertime when Gavin would invariably drift back into her life. The two years that he was gone were two of the loneliest times in her memory, and yet . . . She sighed. Yet she had grown a lot in those years, too.

 

When he came back, she hadn't known what to make of him. Gone was the scrawny youth only to be replaced by a very tall, very broad young man whose eyes she recognized, even if she really didn't recognize anything else about him. It'd taken her nearly three hours that night to talk herself into climbing into Gavin's bed—an entirely normal occurrence throughout the summers of their youth. True enough, she preferred to sleep with Gavin. He was the one who always offered her the security that she wanted. When he wasn't there, she invariably crawled in bed with her oldest brother, Sebastian, but that November, he'd been gone on a hunt for the cat-youkai who eventually became his mate.

 

Something about Gavin unsettled her. She didn't really understand it at the time. He was so much bigger than he had been, and yet it wasn't exactly a feeling of intimidation that had made her hesitate. No, it was a stranger sensation; an unfurling in the depths of her belly . . . an unwelcome thought that maybe, just maybe, Gavin had somehow outgrown her in his absence. In the end, Evan had given her the courage she'd needed. Vowing that he'd go crawl in bed with their parents if she'd do the same to Gavin, Jillian had watched with an amused little smile as Evan swaggered into their parents' bedroom. `If Evan can do it, so can I,' she told herself stubbornly. Forcing her feet to move before she could talk herself out of it, she'd skittered down the long hallway to the bedroom door that she'd known would be standing wide open. Cain and Gin never had minded Jillian's penchant for sleeping with Gavin so long as the door stayed open. Jillian hadn't thought to question the rule. Even now, it made her smile.

 

“How long have you been awake?” Gavin muttered, abruptly yanking Jillian out of her memories.

 

“Not long,” she replied, snuggling against him once more. “It's raining . . . no photo shoot today.”

 

“Bet Hans has a fit about the disruption to his precious `sched-yule',” Gavin remarked with a wry grin.

 

She wrinkled her nose. “I want to go walking in the rain,” she mused.

 

He grimaced as thunder rumbled once more. “Not during a thunder storm, Jilli. It's not safe.”

 

She smiled to herself. She'd figured he'd say that. “But you'd be with me, and you always keep me safe.”

 

He heaved a sigh but chuckled. “You have entirely too much faith in me, Jillian Zelig.”

 

“I do not,” she argued. “You're my hero, remember?”

 

He smiled. “Maybe later,” he agreed, referring to the walk that she wanted to indulge in. “Go back to sleep.”

 

Jillian closed her eyes and let Gavin pull her close once more. `Lazy rainy days,' she mused, `and Gavvie . . .'

 

 

~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~ =~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~

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Final Thought fromEvan:

Sleeping with mom and dad … heh heh heh …

==========

Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Shameless): I do not claim any rights to InuYasha or the characters associated with the anime/manga. Those rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi, et al. I do offer my thanks to her for creating such vivid characters for me to terrorize.

 

~Sue~